William The Bloody
by Willum
Summary: Spike is freed of "that bloody chip", and his evil nature returns with a vengence...
1. Kill 'Em. Kill 'Em All.

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BUFFY, THE VAMPIRE SLAYER

William The Bloody, chapter 1

"Kill 'em. Kill 'em All"

The tiny spot of glowing red in the deep shadows was from a cigarette, the smoker watching the Magic Shop with intense eyes. Only one of his contracts was inside the building, at the moment, but his previous observations had shown that, eventually, most of them would be there. It wouldn't be long, they usually began showing up shortly after dark, and it would have to be tonight, his schedule wouldn't permit him another day in the pleasant little town of Sunnydale.

Stubbing his cigarette out on the side of the building, letting it drop to join the pile of others, built up during his past few nights of watching the so called "Scooby Gang", he deftly reached into his pocket and pulled out another one. Not one time did he take his eyes off of the Magic Shop, watching it with more patience than a vulture.

He couldn't understand why his employer was so hot to have these people eliminated. Though he never ever asked any of his brokers why, he thought it strange that a bunch of teenagers, an old English man, and a white-headed punk could pose a threat to anyone.

Lighting up the other cigarette, he cupped the flame and continued watching the shop, the corner of his mouth twitching slightly as he saw the red head and her girlfriend arrive. _Three down, four to go,_ he thought, hoping that the most important one showed up, the one his broker insisted be taken care of no matter what.

He was rewarded a moment later, the feisty young blonde strutting down the street like she was the most dangerous thing out this night. He smiled at that thought, thinking how wrong she was. If she knew what was lurking in the shadows, watching her and her friends, she would tremble in fear. The death he had not only witnessed, but which he had also delt out, would be more than enough to send such an innocent running and screaming into the night.

His finger hovered about the device in his pocket, his thoughts arguing whether or not he should wait for the others. He could feel the excitement building in him, imaging what was to come, and thought that perhaps of doing it now. The main target was there, the others could be considered inconsequential, but he so hated not fully completing an assignment.

It was only a little after eight, he would give the others until nine to show up. He could afford another hour if it ment getting them all, besides that, it gave him time to let the excitement build, to experience the mental foreplay that he so enjoyed.

Twenty five minutes, and four cigarettes later, his patience was rewarded by the arrival of the grunge boy and his girl, both of them trading looks, and kisses, like a couple of love sick puppies. It was enough to make him want to bust a cap in both their asses right then, the way they were all loving with each other. Neither one of them knew the truth of the world yet, still young and stupid, that love was a fleeting emotion that was only as strong as your hard on, and only as pleasing as she was wet.

"Stupid shits," he muttered.

Six of them. It would have to be enough, the white-headed one could count his lucky stars that he wasn't…

Whitey showed up.

Smiling, pleased that all of his targets were in one place, he snuffed out his last cigarette as he watched Whitey saunter down the street. Whitey had attitude, he'd give him that, but that attitude didn't carry to his eyes. His eyes showed a softness that the man thought hadn't been there long. Whitey's history was probably a long and bloody one, with the recent addition of having developed a conscience, or something similar.

He waited until Whitey had entered the shop, the dinging of the little bell drifting across the street to him, and he slipped his hand back into the pocket of his duster. Feeling the cold plastic of the device, he slid his finger down the side of the oblong unit and lightly touched upon the small button.

Drawing in a slow breath, feeling the tightening of his pants at the thought of snuffing out seven lives, he pressed the button.

The explosion ripped through not only the Magic Shop, but also the businesses on either side, bringing down the upper levels and spewing out a massive fire ball filled with debris. Wood, plastic, mortar, concrete, brick, glass, and flesh and bone rained down on the street, covering asphalt and cars with the grisly remains.

The man shuddered, groaning slightly as he felt his excitement release, the deaths pushing him over the edge. The group deaths were so quick, so exciting, but not as full filling as the individual ones, the ones where he had time to wallow in the glow of the victim's death.

He lit up another cigarette, taking a deep, satisfying draw of it, and dwelled on the scene of carnage for a few seconds longer. His eyes suddenly bulged, the normally calming smoke choking him as he saw Whitey stumble from the burning remains of the building, a piece of pipe through his midsection.

Whitey gripped the piece of metal, grimacing in pain as he quickly pulled it from his body, very little blood coming from what should have been a fatal injury. A small section of Whitey's head was also grossly damaged, a thick pad of his scalp hanging side ways, and his skull split cleanly open.

The man watched in horrid fascination as Whitey's fingers felt about his skull, seemingly fishing into the open wound with determination. The man felt himself getting aroused again, the scene of self mutilation much like something he sometimes did to certain marks, and was wondering what he had stumbled upon.

"Aaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhh", screamed Whitey, his fingers suddenly withdrawing from his cranium with a tiny bit of something shiny.

The transformation was so fast that he almost missed it, Whitey's face going from one of agony to one of elation in an instant. What ever the tiny piece of shiny material was, Whitey was staring at it with a nearly euphoric expression on his face.

The wale of sirens parted the air, and the man prepared to leave, reluctantly backing away from the vision of living death that Whitey had been giving him. He froze in his movements as Whitey suddenly looked up, impossibly spotting him in the shadows and snarling with a face that was no longer handsome.

With an animalistic roar, Whitey was on him before he could even turn around, his neck afire with pain. His vision flared briefly white, quickly retreating into darkness as he felt his heart beat slow down, and his body growing inexplicably cold. His awareness of the alley way dimmed to nothing, the black void claiming him as his life was drained away.

Dropping the body to the ground, Spike twisted his neck slowly around, listening to the satisfying pops it made as he unwound. He felt about his head, pleased that it was healing already, and looked down at the corpse of a man at his feet.

"That was pretty bloody good," commented Spike. "Though not nearly filling enough."

Spike fished through the man's pockets, pulling out two packs of cigarettes, a thick wad of cash, and a list of names that were all too familiar. Finding the remote detonator in the man's other pocket, Spike began chuckling at the irony.

"Bloody hell," quipped Spike. "I should thank you for setting me free, but a part of me still misses her."

Spike stood silently, looking thoughtful for a moment, then shook his head negatively.

"Nah, I don't miss her at all. Guess it was the bloody chip."

Smiling, whistling an old David Bowie tune, Spike drifted down the alley, thinking how much good a trip to LA would do him. It would be nice to look up Dru, now that he was his old self. Besides, it might be fun to settle a few things with that bleedin' Angel.

Yep, things were definitely going to be fun again.


	2. On His Own Again

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BUFFY, THE VAMPIRE SLAYER

William The Bloody, chapter 2

"On His Own Again"

Spike made his way down the alley, whistling an old David Bowie tune, oblivious to the cries of the sirens arriving at the demolished Magic Shop behind him. He briefly wondered who had hired the hit man that had killed the Slayer, and all of her friends, in such a show of pyromaniacal glory, but he didn't give it too much thought. Who ever it had been, they had done him a favor, the explosion doing just enough cranial damage that he was able to finally free himself of that bloody damn chip.

Rounding the corner, Spike let out a grunt as he collided with a rushing form, his hands immediately flashing up to grab a hold of the running blonde. He held her out at arms length, smirking at the thought of having another meal so soon, and let out a gasp at seeing who the woman was.

"Spiky!" squealed Harmony, angrily.

"Harmony, what in the bloody hell are you doing here?" he demanded.

"I, uh, that is, er, you see, I heard the explosion and…"

"It was you," said Spike, releasing her.

"What was me?"

"You hired that bloke to kill all of us, didn't you?"

"Uh, well, you see…yeah," she admitted, lowering her head. She then looked up at him, her face beaming. "But it was mostly for her, the Slayer! I figured if her and her friends were out of the way, then maybe you and me could be together again."

"You shot me with a bloody crossbow!"

"I missed your heart," she countered. "Besides, you seem to have come through this okay."

"I was in the bloody building, Harm! Have you ever been through an explosion? It hurts. It hurts a lot!"

"Silly, I knew it wouldn't kill you. Besides, I had him put you down as least important on the list.""

Spike looked at her as if she had suddenly grown a third eye, blinking in disbelief at what she had just said.

"Oh, what? You're mad cause that bitch is dead, aren't you? Look, I gave you so much, and you just cast me aside to pounce around her like a little puppy in heat!"

Spike hugged her tight for a moment then released her, spinning around as he laughed joyously. Harmony watched in shocked disbelief as he did a little jig, growing nervous at Spike's show of unbridled glee, wondering what in the hell was up with him.

"Oh, you beautiful, stupid, jealous, twit!" he cried before kissing her full on the mouth. "Do you know what you've done?"

"Uh, no," she stammered.

"You've freed me from that bloody chip, Luv!"

"What?"

Spike pointed to the side of his head, still matted blood and healing, the jagged gouge exactly where the chip had been in his head. Harmony squished her face up in disgust, the rapidly healing wound still bubbling and patching it self up, and made a gagging sound.

"I'm free, Harm," he said. "Free from her influence. Free from guilt. Free to hunt. Free to kill. Free to bloody feed! I'm free, and on my own again, and its all thanks to your jealousy."

"You mean I did good?" she asked, a smile spreading across her face. If Spiky was back to his old self, then things could be like they use to!

"Yeah, you did for a change," he said, his own smile fading. "You stupid bitch."

Harmony's face barely had a chance to register her confusion before the pain lanced through her, Spike ramming a stake into her heart. For a brief second she looked as if she was asking _why?_, then she blew apart in a cloud of brown dust as Spike stepped back, raising his hand to block any of the particles from flowing into his eyes.

"Guess I won't have to worry about you trying again," quipped Spike, sliding the stake back up his sleeve. "And if it hadn't been me, it would have Dru. She gets awful jealous, too."

Spike stepped over the fading pile of ash, thinking of how good it felt to be himself again. A thought had occurred to him earlier, one that was perfectly natural to his old self, and he smiled as he decided to follow it through. Though he couldn't claim the prize of having killed another Slayer, he wouldn't mind having the mother of a Slayer on his list.

"Save her all the grief of mourning her daughter," he said to himself, turning to head for the Summer's house. "And I'd hate to see her little sister have to go through that trauma."

Spike's laugh carried into the night, his footfalls echoing off into the darkness that had welcomed him back.

****

Well? Would you like to see this continued or not? Let me know! I could carry it on for a few more bits, or let it end here…with Spike as he is, carrying on past the legend of Buffy and the Scooby Gang…


	3. Home Is Where The Heart Is

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BUFFY, THE VAMPIRE SLAYER

William The Bloody, Chapter 3

"Home Is Where The Heart Is"

"What in the bloody hell was I thinking?" asked Spike of himself, standing next to the very same tree he had often stood by while watching Buffy and her family. "Falling in love with a Slayer."

Spike stood silently, reflecting on his disgusting behavior since having had the chip implanted in his head, and wondered if it had done more than inhibit him from violence against humans. Perhaps it had also manipulated his feeling and emotions, which was easier to believe than that he had allowed himself to develop such thoughts on his own.

Lost in thought, staring through the open door he had exited only a few minutes ago, Spike reflected that perhaps he had been too hasty with Joyce, not letting her suffer like he so use to enjoy. He did have a bit of respect for the woman, he had to admit. She did have excellent taste in shows on the Tele after all. 

He nearly chuckled as he thought of the old saying _Home Is Where The Heart Is._ This was Joyce's home, and her heart was definitely here. It might be in pieces, but it was definitely here.

"Well, well, well," came a soft voice from behind him. "If it isn't the Slayer's love lorn lackey."

Spike turned around nonchalantly, ready to tear into who ever was intruding on his introspection, and only remotely succeeded in containing his surprise at seeing Glory standing before him. She was looking as beautiful as ever, her curly hair seeming golden and free as it hung about her face. Her short, red dress was hugging her figure so tight that Spike smirked at the thought that she should be posting a _dangerous curves_ sign.

"I see you're still into the stalking bit," she said in response to his silence. "Hoping to catch a glimpse of Buffy? Something to entice your memory later, during alone time?"

"Goddess or not, anyone ever tell you you're a bitch?"

Glory's face became a mask of rage. The Goddess was on Spike in two steps, and she grabbed him by the head and locked eyes with him as she snarled threats and promises.

"I'm going to suck out your brain and use your vacant body as my step stool," she growled. "And there's nothing your precious Slayer can do about it."

"Got that right," strained Spike. "She's dead."

"What?" asked Glory, releasing him and stepping back as if she had been slapped.

"Slayer went boom," added Spike, rocking back and forth on his feet.

"But I wanted to kill her," whined Glory, looking sullen. "Her, and those witches, and…"

"They're gone too, I'm afraid," informed the gloating Spike, smiling at her. "Would-be boy and his ex-demon squeeze. Oh, and we can't forget the stuffy, ever vigilant, nearly clue-less Watcher."

"Wait a minute," commanded Glory, holding her hand out like a cop trying to stop traffic. "Are you telling me that they're all dead? Every last one of those annoying people is gone from my life?"

"I see you do understand some English."

"But… But… My key," she mumbled, shaking her head slowly. "Now I'll never find it."

"Oh, that thing," said Spike, pulling a cigarette out of his pocket and tapping the end of it against his free hand. "I can tell you where that thing is."

Spike was looking down as he spoke, he therefore missed Glory's movements, but the solid thud of being slammed into the tree was more than enough sensory input to let him know what had happen. That and the fact that Glory was holding him by throat, back against the tree, about two feet off of the ground. Spike grunted in pain, gripping Glory's arm in a vain attempt to force his release.

"Where is my key?" she growled.

"Up the stairs," gurgled Spike. "Second room on the right. Goes by the name of Dawn."

"The child?" asked Glory, looking doubtful. She then smiled in appreciation and nodded slightly. "Those clever little monks."

"Do you mind?" asked Spike, barely getting the words out.

Glory let him drop, smiling with anticipation that she was finally going to be able to lay her hands on her prize. All the years, all the troubles, all the bad hair days were about to pay off, and she couldn't be more ecstatic.

"Thank you," she said, kissing him on the top of his head before turning and bolting into the house.

Gathering himself up, Spike retrieved another cigarette from his pocket and lit it, inhaling deeply. Walking across the street, moving as leisurely as someone out for an evening stroll, Spike concentrated on ignoring the background noise of the night, straining to pick out any sound from the Summers' house.

He was rewarded a few moments later, Glory's scream of anguish so deep and full of power that it blew out the windows of, not only the Summers' house, but also of every building for a block around it. The scream carried on, dwindling to the cry of someone that had given up, retreating into the dark corners of their mind.

Spike smiled as he imagined how Glory must be, on her knees in the room covered with blood, sobbing plaintively as she realized that her key was dead, ravished beyond any hope of revival by any means, even that of a Goddess.

It was time to find a car, LA was calling, and he still had some scores to settle. He just couldn't decide if he should do it fast and dirty, or slow and painful.

Oh, well. He'd think about it on the drive.

"Blue Jean," he began singing, walking down the street and scoping the area for a suitable vehicle. "I just met a girl named Blue Jean…"


	4. I Love LA

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In memory of Joyce Summers, her character will be missed…unless Joss has a surprise for all of us.

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Buffy, The Vampire Slayer

William The Bloody, Chapter 4

"I Love LA"

Spike stood in the shadows of the bar, bobbing slightly in tune with the disco song blaring over the speakers, shaking his head and chuckling as the DJ called for everyone to get on the dance floor and shake their "booty". A lot of prime meat was in the club, even if they were throw backs that still desired disco, and Spike had decided that it would be as good a spot as any to let his brethren know that he was back.

He could sense at least three other vamps in the place, newbies from the smell of them, and he thought it high time he started recruiting a few bangers, establishing his new base of power. LA was a hard market to get into, but he'd be damned if he let that get him down. He'd be damned for a lot of other things, but not that.

Slipping through the teeming throng of dancers, groping the occasional quick feel of an attractive lass, Spike made his way up behind the closest of the vamps. Spike shook his head in dismay as he watched the young looking vamp make an ass of himself as he tried putting the moves on a shapely brunette, succeeding only in spilling her drink on her. Wondering why he was always finding the vampire equivalent to geeks for his help, Spike tapped the man on his shoulder and glared at him with all the menace he could muster without fully vamping out.

"Look, I need a few chaps to do, oh, just about everything I bloody tell them do," said Spike, drawing a surprised look from the man. "So, why don't you put your arse next to the door, and keep anybody from leaving."

"Who the hell are you?" demanded the man, his fear evident though he was trying to put on a show of defiance.

"William," answered Spike, taking out a cigarette and lighting it up. "William The Bloody."

"Hey, I've heard of you," said the man, shaking his head and smiling. "I heard you use to be a real bad ass, but now you're sort of…a pussy."

The two other vamps that Spike had sensed were suddenly there, standing along side the geek and letting their faces harden slightly.

"Problem here, Trevor?" asked the biggest of the three, a large black man that, Spike had to admit, looked a bit stylish. "You want me to dust this mother for ya?"

"You three make quite the trio," quipped Spike, eyeing the third vamp, a shapely blonde wearing red leather pants with a matching jacket, and pink halter underneath. "Sort of like the vampire mod squad."

"You got a pretty smart mouth for someone that's about to be dead," cooed the blonde, batting her eyelashes at him.

"Tell you what," said Spike, taking a drag from his smoke. "Let's step out back. I'll let all three of you take me on, and when I dust Link here…"

"Name's Tyrone," growled the black man.

"…you two can work me," finished Spike, nodding at Blondie and the geek.

"You've got balls," said Trevor. "Kind of funny since everyone's heard how you've been neutered."

"I've got the biggest balls of them all," said Spike, annoyed when none of them got his reference. "Let's just get this over with."

Spike shouldered his way between them, heading for the exit door next to the DJ's booth, and twitched his wrist just right, dropping his stake from its holder in the sleeve of his duster.

Pushing the door open, Spike stepped out into the alleyway, spinning and thrusting before Tyrone had even set one foot out of the building. The vamp managed to get out a gurgled cry in the second before he exploded into a cloud of brown dust, his companions instantly visibly behind him, and looking shocked as hell.

"Any one want to contest the point?" asked Spike.

Blondie and the geek just shook their heads no.

"Good," said Spike, stepping in and closing the door.

"You still want me to cover the front door, boss?" asked the geek, his voice quivering.

"This the only other exit?" asked Spike, getting an affirmative nod from Blondie. "Good. Yeah, you cover it, and Blondie here…"

"Sindi," said the girl, meekly. "With an S and an I."

"Cute. Okay, _Sindi,_ you can cover this door."

"What are we suppose to do?" asked Sindi, looking apprehensive.

"Stop anyone from leaving, of course," replied Spike. "Then, after I've settled these ever hustling disco freaks down…we feast."

Sindi and the geek looked about the room in awe, turning back to face Spike with eyes wide.

"All of them?" asked the geek.

"We're going to feed on all of them?" asked Sindi, nearly mimicking him.

"Why not?" asked Spike in return. "I love LA. I love LA cuisine. I love my bloody self!"

"Cool," said Sindi, bobbing her head in appreciation.

"And this is only the beginning, my Luv," said Spike, smiling at her. "This is only the beginning."

Cordelia pitched backwards as the vision over took her, the mishmash of images rattling through her mind like a slide show set on warp two, and Angel grabbed her just a foot from hitting the floor. The images were gone as quickly as they had come, the waves of pain fading ever so slowly, and she started breathing normally again.

"Are you okay?" asked Angel, helping her set down in a chair.

"Oh, God," gasped Cordelia, rubbing her forehead. "It was… It was so bloody…so…oh, God, Angel, it was bad."

"What's going on?" asked Gunn, stepping from the backroom and noting that Cordelia had had a vision.

"There was blood everywhere," she said, her eyes distant. "And the people…they were dead…all of them."

"Where?" asked Angel, trying to sound friendly and demanding, knowing that they didn't have much time.

"A…a club…a disco club…" she murmured. "It was right of the seventies."

"I know a few places like that," said Gunn. "Can you narrow it down a little bit?"

"It was just one big room, with a dance floor and a DJ, and four of those giant, sparkly balls."

"Sounds like the Disco Inferno Room," said Gunn.

"You know this place?" asked Cordelia, amazed.

"A brother gets around," replied Gunn, defensively, heading for the door. "Sometimes you have to go to those hell holes for some info."

"Angel, there's something else," said Cordelia, grabbing his arm as he started to follow Gunn out the front door. "Spike was there."

"Spike?" asked Angel, looking surprised.

"And he was covered in blood," she said, her voice trailing off.

Angel stared at her for a moment, nodding slowly in understanding.

"Call Wesley," he said, turning towards the door. "Tell him to meet us there, and to bring some heavy weapons."

Angel was out the door before she started dialing.

****

To Be Continued…


	5. Kiss Your Life Goodbye

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BUFFY, THE VAMPIRE SLAYER

William The Bloody, Chapter 5

"Kiss Your Life Goodbye"

Cordelia leaned back in her chair, holding a cold wash cloth over her forehead and eyes, and tried to relax. The throbbing pain of the vision was diminishing, but the shock of what she had seen, of the image of all of those people slaughtered, was still with her, gripping her heart with fear. That Spike was at the center of that slaughter was all the more unnerving, especially since last they had heard, Spike had been neutralized by computer chip placed in his head.

Deciding that there was only one person that would be able to answer the questions running through her mind, Cordelia picked up the phone and punched in the number for Giles' store. When she got a recording that the number was out of service, Cordelia became a bit worried, and quickly dialed up Buffy's number.

"The number you have dialed is no longer in service…" droned the automated voice.

Xander's number.

"The number you have…"

Willow's number.

"Hello?" answered a woman's somber voice.

"Mrs. Rosenberg? This is Cordelia Chase, a friend of Willow's from high school. Is Willow there by chance?"

The phone was silent.

"Mrs. Rosenberg?"

"I…I'm sorry, Cordelia," said Mrs. Rosenberg in a shaky voice. "Willow and several of her friends were…were… We buried her yesterday."

"Oh, no, Mrs. Rosenberg, I am so sorry," stammered Cordelia, trying to keep her voice steady. "What happen? Which friends?"

"Buffy Summers, and Xander. And that nice man they worked for, Gilbert I think his name was."

"Giles? Rupert Giles?"

"Yes, that's it," said Mrs. Rosenberg. "Cordelia Chase, yes, I remember you. Oh, Cordelia, it was so awful. So many of them were killed."

"What happened?"

The phone line went dead.

"Hello? Mrs. Rosenberg? Hello?" spoke Cordelia into the phone, knowing right away whose line had been disconnected; she no longer had a dial tone.

Cordelia froze as the door opened, a cold breeze blowing in as if in premonition as to what was come, and her eyes darted to a bundle of stakes laying atop a near by filing cabinet.

"Allo, my pretty," came an all too familiar voice. "Kind of late to be bothering people with a call on the Tele now, isn't it?" 

Cordelia slowly turned around, her heart thundering in her ears, and gasped at the bloody image before her. Spike was coated with the coppery substance, his shirt and jacket actually dripping wet with blood, and he stood there quietly, smiling with blood stained teeth. There was a sharp edge to his eyes that Cordelia remembered having seen before, long ago when Spike had tried to Angelus and Buffy.

"You're not welcome here," snarled Cordelia through clenched teeth.

"It is a place of business, is it not?" asked Spike, cocky as ever. "You have your open sign in the window."

Cordelia's eyes darted to the window, cursing the fact that sign had never been turned around, and looked back at Spike, startled that he was now directly in front of the desk.

"It's and open invitation, Love."

"During normal business hours," she retorted. "Why don't you come back by around nine, hmm? AM that is. When the sun's up."

Spike's arm lashed out and his hand wrapped around her neck, his vice-like grip nearly strangling her, and he pulled her atop the desk so that her face was mere inches from his.

"I should have killed the lot of you years ago," snarled Spike, his face vamping out. "But I guess it's better later than never."

Spike pulled her over the desk and slammed her to the floor, nearly knocking her out, then dropped down on top of her, straddling her waist and using his knees to pin her hands. He smiled at her briefly, brushed a strand of hair out of her face, and then turned her head to the side to expose her neck.

He drank deeply, relishing in the sweet taste of her blood, and he thought of draining her completely. He finally pulled away from her, forcing himself to stop before he killed her, and basked in the hot rush that was running through him. No, he wasn't going to kill her outright, he had plans for her that required her turning, and he wasn't going to wait three days for her to rise from the dead.

Using one of his claws to slice his own wrist, Spike pressed the bleeding wound over Cordelia's mouth and massaged her throat to make her swallow the amber liquid. This way would turn her far more quickly, practically within minutes, and would leave her far more competent than one of those clumsy vampires that is made from being completely drained.

She would be nearly an equal.

She would be a tool.

She would be his path to the others and, ultimately, to Angel.

She would be his new Dru.

****

To Be Continued…


	6. Life's Little Lessons

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BUFFY, THE VAMPIRE SLAYER

William The Bloody, Chapter 6

"Life's Little Lessons"

Wesley closed his door with his back then leaned there for a moment, weary from a long day and a frustrating night. Not only had they arrived at the club too late, finding one of the most disgusting, undeniably evil scenes that they had ever come across, but Angel had sent him and Gunn back to the office, electing to stay and see if he could learn anything from the police.

Returning to the office, they had found a note from Cordy stating that she had gone home, and Gunn quickly voiced that it had been a good idea. Locking up, Wesley had headed home himself, anxious to try and get some rest before beating the trails in the morning, trying to track down any info on Spike, and why the vampire had suddenly gone on the rampage.

He would have to call Giles first thing in the morning, see how much he knew about Spike's sudden change, and what advice he could offer. If it weren't four in the morning, with Spike certainly taking to ground for the coming day, then Wesley would have called now. But, taking everything into consideration, Wesley thought it best just to let things wait a while, his mind was muddled enough from the long hours, and he didn't think he would be at his best to try and sort things out.

Besides, it wasn't like there was going to be any more vampire activity tonight.

The sudden banging on the door made Wesley jump and yelp.

"Who is it?" asked Wesley.

"Wesley, it's Cordelia, open up!" came a familiar voice. "Spike's right behind me!"

"Get in here," yelled Wesley, after throwing open the door. He stuck his head out into the hallway, looking about for any sign of the vampire, then retreated back into his apartment and locked the door.

"Cordelia, what happen?" stammered Wesley. "How did you run into Spike?"

"Oh, he stopped by…" she smiled, showing off her fangs, "…the office."

"Dear Lor…" was all Wesley was able to get out before Cordy knocked him to the ground.

Straddling him, holding his arms down by his wrists, Cordy smiled seductively at him, licking her lips and grinding against him. Leaning down, she breathed softly into his ear, nibbling at it and biting gently at his lobe.

"Remember when you use to want me?" she asked.

"I, I, I, I,…"

"Well, now I want you," she said, burying her teeth into his neck.

"Why does she get to have all the fun?" pouted Sindi, stomping her foot on the ground. "Why couldn't I take the English man?"

"Because, you twit, he doesn't know you," growled Spike. "He wouldn't have let you into his bloody apartment."

"I'll have you know that I can talk my way into any man's apartment."

"Sindi, dear, luv," said Spike, sneering at her. "Put a bloody sock in it or I'll rip your throat out myself."

"But.."

What ever she had been planning to say was lost in the gurgling sounds she made as Spike wrapped his clawed hand around her throat and lifted her off the ground.

"Listen, bitch," growled Spike. "You work for me now. You either do what I say, when I say, with out any argument what so ever, or you die. Is that bloody well clear?"

Sindi shook her head ever so slightly.

"Good. Now, shut the hell up or I'm going to kill you."

Spike set her back down, smiling as she cowered with fear, and glanced over to see Trevor shaking with rage. The geeky vampire stood with his fists clenched, his features vamped out, and a murderous gleam in his eyes.

"Oh, now I'm going to have a problem with you?"

"I don't care who you are, you can't treat Sindi like that," snarled Trevor.

"Pay attention, Luv," Spike said to Sindi. "This is the example that could have been you."

Trevor took one step forward, launching his attack at Spike, but he wasn't even close to matching Spike on speed. Spike became a blur, flowing past Trevor almost faster than even Sindi's senses could keep up with, and Trevor's head went spinning through the air as his body tumbled to the ground.

Sindi stood in shock, too terrified to move, and watched as Spike continued his example.

"The Blade of Ackbar," said Spike, holding up a gleaming knife that was as black as the night. "Only one ever made. It has certain magikal properties. It was forged by a group of warlocks as a means to torture vampires."

Sindi's eyes darted from the weapon to Trevor and back to the weapon. She had never seen a vampire loose its head and turn to dust, and she didn't want to think of what other ways the Blade of Ackbar could be used in the torture of her kind.

"Quite the sensation, isn't it?" asked Spike of Trevor, picking up his head and looking into his blinking eyes. "Watch this, though. This part's the best."

Spike set the head back down, facing it towards its trembling body, and dropped his stake into his hand. Flipping Trevor's body over, Spike smiled at Trevor's horrified expression as he put the tip of the stake against Trevor's chest.

"Don't fuck with me," said Spike, clearly. "That's today's lesson."

With a quick shove, Spike buried the stake into Trevor's chest, the body disintegrating instantly in response. Trevor blinked in surprise, not believing that he had just watched his body get dusted, and gaped at Spike in utter disbelief.

"Three…two…one…" counted down Spike, smiling at the end. "Zero."

Trevor's head puffed away into gritty dust.

Standing, smirking the entire time, Spike strolled back over to Sindi and pulled her close to him. Holding her firmly against himself, his hand tightly squeezing her ass, Spike kissed her hard, and long. When he finally broke off the kiss, he smiled at her wickedly.

"Did we learn anything tonight?" he asked.

Shaking her head numbly, Sindi said "yeah. That you're psychotic."

"No, Luv. I'm William. William The Bloody, and I'm back."

****

TO BE CONTINUED…


	7. The Lure Of Three

BUFFY, THE VAMPIRE SLAYER __

BUFFY, THE VAMPIRE SLAYER

William The Bloody, Chapter 7

"The Lure Of Three"

Gunn hadn't suspected a thing, too confident in the past success of himself and the others, and, at the onset of dusk, had rushed to the abandoned warehouse in response to Wesley's frantic phone call. The prim and proper Englishman had quickly told Gunn how he had gone over to Cordelia's to check up on her, only to find a couple of vamps hanging about to deliver a message from Spike.

Of course Wesley had thrown in the bit about how he had already contacted Angel, and that their vampire with a soul would be joining them at the warehouse as soon as the sun had retreated enough from the horizon. How could Gunn doubt him? Had they not constantly defeated evil at every turn? Had they not stood against every horror that the dark forces had thrown at them? Had they not learned to trust one another implacably?

Had they all not been fools?

Gunn had arrived to find Wesley's car parked out front of the old, wooden and steel warehouse, and he had gingerly entered, secure in the knowledge that it was just a little too light out yet for vamps to be up and about. Pain and blackness had engulfed him as something flat, and hard, smashed against his head, knocking him out.

Awakening, he knew not how long later, Gunn had found himself chained to a solid, concrete wall with thick, black links of something that felt as if it were much more than just metal. His cries had quickly drawn the attention of a female vamp that had sneered at him and sauntered off, returning a few moments later with Wesley and Cordelia in tow.

Gunn's trepidation became horror when his two friends smiled at him, revealing their new existence. His screams of anguish were lost to the night as the vamps stood their ground, laughing at his reaction, and when he finally drained himself, he began to wonder why he was still alive.

Angel arrived at the small office that the others had rented, and paused at the door as he sensed the familiar presence already within the building. His anger building at the thought that Spike would have the balls to come there, Angel threw the door open with such force that it shattered in a burst of wood and glass, its destruction echoing through the still night.

"I see even your good side has a temper," quipped Spike, setting back with his feet propped up on top of the desk.

"Where are they?" demanded Angel, his eyes darting about the office.

"I take it you're referring to the trollop, the whiner, and your muscle," replied Spike.

Angel became a blur as he shot around the desk, knocking Spike's feet off of the piece of furniture as he passed, and grabbed the intruding vamp by the collar of his duster, lifting him into the air. His snarl of rage caught in his throat as felt the slightest bit of pressure, and he looked down to see Spike pressing the tip of a stake against his chest.

"Let's not get all huffy and puffy," said Spike, smiling wickedly. "I'd hate to end this so soon."

"What the hell are you doing here, Spike?" demanded Angel. "Where are my friends?"

"Oh, yeah, I forgot. The vampire with a soul does like having humans for friends, now doesn't he?"

Angel went to throw Spike over the desk, intent on slamming him against the far wall, but Spike had other ideas, and had been prepared for just such a reaction. Twisting about in mid-air, using the desk for support, Spike did an improvised cart wheel, and landed on his feet, on the other side of the desk.

"Nice move," said Angel, glaring at his former comrade.

"I've been watching The Matrix," replied Spike. "Bloody good movie."

"What do you want? What's the point of this game?" demanded Angel.

"What do I want?" repeated Spike. "What do I want? Hmmm…let me see. You became Angelus, once a very good friend of mine, and what did you do then? You mocked me and humiliated me every chance you had. You turned Dru against me, and, when you come right down bloody to it, you smegged up my life!"

"Not my fault," replied Angel, shrugging. "You always were a loser, Spike."

"Not anymore, chum," said Spike, still smiling that _I've got you by the balls_ smile of his. "The gloves are off now."

"Buffy should've staked…"

"Oh! Yeah, your little Slayer," interrupted Spike. "I guess you haven't heard yet."

"Heard what?" asked Angel, dread creeping upon him.

"She, and her little group of friends, it seems they had a little accident."

Angel placed one hand on the side of the desk and pushed it out of his way, the heavy piece of furniture sliding across the floor with a screech to slam into the wall and shatter apart, and then took a threatening step towards Spike.

"Not my doing, mind you," continued Spike, holding his ground. "Though it was to my benefit in the end."

Angel lunged at Spike, but once again Spike had been ready for the assault and he slipped out of the reaching grasp of Angel, spinning around and delivering a kick across Angel's back that sent the vampire smashing to the floor.

Spike leapt backwards, bouncing around on his feet like a boxer, jabbing at the air with a glee to his eyes that conveyed how much he was enjoying their encounter. Ducking and weaving, making swooshing sounds as he punched at the air, Spike gloated over the fallen Angel.

"I'm not real certain," said Spike as Angel rose, "but I think it was about five pounds of C4."

Angel stood still, looking at Spike with disbelief playing across his face.

"I've heard of getting around," joked Spike, morbidly, "but I think she spread herself a little thin with that last one."

Spike nearly burst into unbridled laughter as seeing the lost look on Angel's face. Angel could sense that he had been speaking the truth, and the devastation that it was reeking upon the 'good guy' vamp was more than Spike could have hoped for.

"Oh, don't fret White Knight, I'm sure that another Slayer has already been brought forth, and no doubt you'll be able to ply your way into her virginal panties, too."

With a roar of rage, Angel launched himself at Spike, grappling with him and taking them both to the floor with a crash. They tumbled about, Angel landing several solid blows to Spike smirking face, but the blonde vamp continued laughing, countering a number of Angel's attacks with ease.

Growing tired of the battle, his mind more focused than it had been in ages, Spike slipped his own stake back into his hand and brought it up against Angel's chest at the very same second that Angel had brought his own into play. The two vamps froze in that instant, on their sides but facing each other, both holding a stake to the other's heart, and glared at each other. Angel's expression was one of revenge driven anger, while Spike's was that of complete and utter hatred.

"Kill me, and your friends will be dead by morning," hissed Spike. "All three of them."

Angel continued to glare at him, seething with rage.

"Help me, and I'll turn them back over to you, no harm done."

"Help you?" Angel finally managed to get out. "Help you what?"

"Find Dru," answered Spike. "She said she was coming back here, and I want to have some closure with her."

"You're a monster, Spike, and the first chance I get, I will kill you."

"Would that be before or after your friends die?"

"Damn you."

"Damn us both, brother," smiled Spike.

"I want to see them first," demanded Angel.

"I knew you would," said Spike, releasing his hold on Angel. _And counting on it,_ he thought, rising from the floor.

Angel shrugged off the helping hand Spike offered, and stood up, barely containing the rage he felt. He wanted nothing more than to put a stop to Spike right then and there, but he had to control that rage if he was to hope to save his friends. He knew that he couldn't trust Spike, but for the moment the blonde vamp held all the cards.

"I want to see them now," growled Angel.

"Shall we take your car, chum?" asked Spike. "I feel like riding with the top down."

Angel whirled around on his heel and stalked out of the trashed office.

Spike followed, smiling, and thinking _oh, this is going to be so much fun!_

****

TO BE CONTINUED…


	8. Save 'Em, Save 'Em All

BUFFY THE VAMPIRE SLAYER __

BUFFY THE VAMPIRE SLAYER

William The Bloody, Chapter 8

"Save 'Em, Save 'Em All"

"After you," said Spike, sliding open the large door to the warehouse and sweeping his hand towards the blackness within.

"I don't think so, Spike," replied Angel, frowning at him. "Why don't you lead the way."

Spike let a carefully timed look of hesitation play across his face, just enough to make Angel confident in his choice, then shrugged and headed into the darkness of the warehouse.

"Suit yourself, mate," quipped the blonde vamp, smiling thinly as he placed Angel to his back. "Don't know why you're so untrusting."

"Maybe it has something to do with the string of bodies you've left from Sunnydale to here."

"Not all of them were my fault."

"Just take me to my friends," growled Angel.

"You know, you should be pretty proud of your dearly departed friends that you left behind, in Sunnydale. Red most of all," spoke Spike, leading Angel deeper into the darkness, through a maze of twists and turns.

"Why's that?"

"She was working on something for the Slayer, and she finished it just before they all went blewie."

"Blewie? Is that one of your poetic words?" asked Angel. "What was Willow working on that I should be so proud of?"

"Just this," said Spike, spinning around and pulling out a small, black leather pouch sealed with a draw string.

"A pouch?"

Spike undid the string and pulled open the mouth of the pouch, tilting it towards Angel. Sunlight, bright and pure and yellow, flowed from the bag as if it were a summer day, causing Angel to stumble backward in pain. Smoke began streaming from him as pain washed over him, and Angel crumpled to the ground in agony, withering in the searing light.

"Sunshine in a bag," shouted Spike, gleefully. "Don't you just love it? Every vampire should have one, for those dark moments in life."

His skin blackened and blistering, smoke streaming off of him in waves of billowing clouds, Angel began screaming, and Spike knew that it would only be a matter of seconds before he burst into flames.

"If I told you once, I told you a thousand times," mocked Spike. "Sun screen!"

Tiny jets of flame began erupting on Angel, and Spike decided that enough was enough. He closed the pouch, sealing the sunshine up, and grunted as he removed his duster. Using his coat as a smothering blanket, Spike extinguished the flames that were lapping at Angel, smirking the entire time.

"No, White Knight, I shall not let death claim you just yet," said Spike, rolling the unconscious Angel over. "Your death shall be longer, and more devastating that a simple sunning."

Angel awoke to pin pricks of pain lancing across his body, his entire physical form burning with agony, and he realized that he was whimpering. His vision was blurry, swimming with blotches of grey, but he was able to make out Gunn, changed to a concrete wall not ten feet from him. He tried to call out to his friend, but his throat had not yet healed enough, and his voice came out raspy and scratched.

Still, it was enough to catch Gunn's attention, and the young black man slowly raised his head to show that he was gagged. Gunn was trying to yell something, the cloth stuffed into his mouth making it unintelligible, but the panic in his eyes sent the message loud and clear.

They were both in trouble. Again.

"Well, well, well," came Spike's voice from the darkness. "Looks like our misguided hero is awake."

Lights came on, fully revealing the room, and Angel could see that they were in something resembling a medieval cell, both he, and Gunn, shackled to opposite walls, with a cell door now visible. Spike came strolling into the cell, whistling joyfully, and was trailed by a dizzy looking vamp girl that Angel didn't know. The other two vamps, though, following behind her, he did know, and it tore at his soul to see them.

Cordelia and Wesley.

"What have you done?" croaked Angel, the very words generating new waves of pain through his ravished body.

"What?" asked Spike, offering an exaggerated look of innocence. "Did I do something wrong? Oh, you mean them!"

Spike waltzed around the couple, coming up behind them, and wrapped his arms around their shoulders.

"Best of buddies, now," smirked Spike. "There ain't nothing we don't like to do together."

"Hi, Angel," cooed Cordelia. "Shame on you, never telling us how it felt. How much power came with it. That was very selfish of you."

"You know what the problem with vampires is?" asked Wesley, looking more confident and self assured than Angel had ever seen him. "They're always picking victims that are twits! If we were just a bit more selective, why within a year we'd be ruling this world."

Angel began to feel the anger rising in him, his hatred for Spike growing beyond anything he had ever felt before, and he sensed his healing increasing. His body was kneading faster than should have been possible, considering he hadn't fed yet, and he quickly concentrated on controlling it. He wanted to heal on the inside while maintaining his appearance on the outside, concealing what he hoped would be an advantage.

"I think our English friend's hit on something, wouldn't you say?" pondered Spike.

"I think you lost more than the chip in that explosion," said Angel, keeping his voice raspy.

"What do you think of this?" asked Spike, his eyes narrowing in anger.

Wesley and Cordelia glided over to Gunn, taking up positions on either side of him, and wrapped their hands around his head with vice-like strength. Flashing fang-filled smiles at Angel, the two bent Gunn's head back and tore into his throat, draining him dry.

"No!" screamed Angel, giving into his rage.

The chains that bound Angel to the wall ripped away with a screech of momentary protest, the three-foot long lengths whipping about in a cloud of dust and stone. Angel lunged at the two vampires, embracing the concept that they were no longer his friends, just as he was not Angelus. Cordelia and Wesley were dead, and he intended to see to it that these creatures soon were, too.

Wesley had been wrong in his summation that most vampires were twits, it was just that it took time for a vampire to become powerful, to become the things out of legend. All of the intelligence and determination in the world would not make the slightest difference when a newborn faced an ancient one.

One such as Angel.

Spike had been a little too eager in his plans to torment Angel, and had not been as thorough as he should have, leaving Angel with his weapons. With his anger raging as it was, Angel would not have needed his stakes, but it made his dealing with the two quicker, freeing him up to tackle his most desired target: Spike.

Within the span of one dead heartbeat, Angel dusted both Wesley and Cordelia, spinning around to launch his assault on Spike. His blows were met with deft blocks from Spike, though it was obvious to Angel that Spike was barely keeping his own, and Angel pressed harder, driving Spike back.

"You're going to burn in hell," growled Angel, "and I'm the one that's going to send you there."

"That should be interesting," countered Spike. "Seeing how as how you didn't even send me a bloody postcard from when you were there!"

Strike, counter, swing, counter, the battle raged on, Angel slowly wearing Spike down while he continued to be fueled by his anger.

"I've always wanted to see you kill your friends," spat Spike, barely dodging a vicious series of strikes from Angel.

"You know what they say," replied Angel, smashing Spike's own stake free of his hand. "Be careful what you wish for!"

Angel delivered a spinning back kick that caught Spike across the face and knocked him to the ground. Dropping to one knee, pinning Spike to the floor, Angel brought both his stakes down in a staggering blow that delved the two stakes into Spike's heart.

"Nooooooooo….." echoed Spike's dying cry.

"Uh, err, Spike, please be careful with that," stammered Giles, briskly making his way towards the vampire.

Spike gazed at the yellow, crystal orb as if in a trance, ignorant to Giles' statement, and swaying slightly. He looked as if he were about to pass out, his legs almost buckling as Giles reached him and yanked the crystal orb away from him.

"What the bloody hell is that thing?" demanded Spike, steadying himself against a bookshelf.

"It's the Eye of Shel'Koma," said Giles, looking the crystal over as if inspecting it for damage. "If you're in the right frame of mind, it allows you to see the possible future."

"What?" asked Spike, his mind still spinning from all that had just happened to him. Or, at least, what he thought had happened to him.

"Hey, can I try it?" asked a beaming Xander. "I'd like to think about the next ten World Series."

"It doesn't work like that," admonished Giles. "It shows you the future as it will occur, based on the here and now. It actually gives you the opportunity to alter the future by showing you the next life course changing event in…er…your life."

"Oh, bloody hell," quipped Spike, running for the back room.

"What's his problem?" asked Anya.

"Maybe he saw his future, and he didn't like it," offered Willow.

The sounds of smashing wood and breaking glass echoed from the back room, and the gang exchanged glances of questioning.

"What the hell is he…" started asking Buffy, her voice drowned out by the roar of an explosion.

The Magic Shop shook on its foundation, bits of dust and plaster falling from the ceiling, and the gang stumbled about in the shock wave. Their ears ringing from the closeness of the blast, their eyes still wide with surprise, the Scooby gang rushed towards the backroom, careening to a stop as Spike staggered in, his clothes smoking and ruined, his skin burnt black in several spots, and his hair a tangled mess.

"Spike," ventured Buffy, "are you okay?"

"No," said Spike, swaying a bit. "But I will be as soon as I find Harmony."

"Why?" asked Tara. "Wh…wha…what was that explosion."

"I had no idea she was such a bit…" Spike's voice trailed off as he fell face first to the floor, unconscious.

"Does anyone know what just happen?" asked Buffy, turning to face her friends.

All but Xander shook their head no, and Buffy glared at him questioningly.

"I can't swear to it," said Xander, hesitantly, "but from what I remember of my Soldier Boy training, I'd say it sounded like about four pounds of C4."

"Why can't I ever get a straight answer?" asked Buffy, throwing her hands up into the air.

****

END


End file.
